User blog:Doctor714/Story 1: Chapter One
Rumors. There are rumors everywhere. At schools. At work. On social media. On the news. Everywhere. Rumors. Here in the year 2165, there are lots of rumors. One rumor that’s spoken everyday now is about a rebellion. I don’t know what for, just that there’s plans for a rebellion that will supposedly happen on July 15, two days before I turn 13. Who am I? Well, let me tell you about myself. My name is Jack Wilson. I was born in Scotland on July 17, 2152, almost 13 years ago. When I was 5 years old, me and my parents moved to the United States. We moved to a small house in Denver. Colorado. We still live in that house. I like it. It’s just big enough for the three of us, and it looks nice, both on the inside and the outside. I don’t have very many friends, I only have one. His name is Benjamin Fisher. He goes by Ben, but to mess with him I call him Benji. We’ve been best friends since I started school here. He doesn’t care if I speak with a Scottish accent, why should he? I’m a human being just like everyone else. Lately, we haven’t hung out as much, mainly because I’ve been busy with school. Towards the beginning of the year, I went from a middle school to a high school when I took and passed a test a ninth grader would take. So, basically, I skipped the seventh, eighth, and ninth grades. Yeah, I’m that intelligent. Luckily, the school year has ended, so me and Ben can hang out as much as we can this summer. We’re going to start tomorrow. We would have started today, but my mum made me help her with gardening. I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’m home alone right now. My parents decided to have a night out. I’m sitting on the couch, my feet on the table, left foot over the other. I’m currently eating ice cream while watching a boring documentary on World War Two. It may have been 200 years ago and sure it was a horrible time, but watching this documentary is just boring. Why are they still playing it on TV? I don’t know. Why am I even watching it? There’s nothing else to watch. Since this is so boring, I’m gonna go ahead and take a quick shower and go to bed. I turn the TV off, and go put the ice cream back in the freezer. I then go get a pair of pajamas and go to the bathroom. 15 minutes later, I get done with my shower and, for some reason, decide to look at my appearance. I’ve really never done this before, but at least you get an image in your head of what I look like. Last I checked, I was exactly 5’0” tall and weighed 125 pounds. I have black, wavy hair that goes to the top of my eyebrows. To say the truth, I like my hair long, but no too long. I only get a haircut roughly every 2 months. I look at my eyes and see that it’s blue-duh, I already knew that-but not just blue. Well, what I mean is that it’s a deep blue, but a bright blue while it’s a normal shade of blue at the same time. Weird and confusing, but I like it. Next: my face. All I can really say about it is that it looks a little bit boyish. I don’t look too young, maybe about ten or eleven years old, so not bad. When I look at my bare chest, I see that I’m a bit thin, but not much though, so I’m glad about that. I don’t have much muscle in my arms. I can work on that in the future. Well, that’s basically all of my appearance. I finish drying off and put my pajamas on. I go to my room, lay in my bed, yawn, stretch, and fall asleep. I wake up the next morning, but not peacefully. Far from peaceful. Much, much far. When I wake up, I hear chaos. Gunshots. Shouts. Screams. Lots and lots of screams. Hearing it all makes me wide awake. I’m now scared. Going as fast as I can, I change into some clothes and put my shoes on. I quickly run outside. What I see next makes me more scared. I see houses on fire. Almost everywhere I see people on the ground. Dead. For some reason, I don’t see any kids my age, younger, or older. How strange. Oh no. Where in the world are my parents? I hope they haven’t been killed. Even thinking that brings tears to my eyes. I wipe them away and start walking. For some time, I still hear screams and gunshots. After a few minutes, they stop, but I still hear shouts. I can’t tell what they’re saying though. When I turn left at the street corner, the first thing I hear-and see-is a few men wearing black, standing in front of a vehicle. Even from a distance, I still see one of them point to me and yell, “There’s another one!” Upon hearing that, I quickly raise my hands in surrender as two of the men start running towards me. I squint my eyes close, waiting for my death. But instead of shooting me, they get behind me and drag me to the vehicle, which looks like the vehicle animal control use. A third man opens the back to the vehicle and the two dragging me toss me in there and close the door. When I land, the back of my head hits the-ground?-I don’t know. “Ow,” I say as I put my hand there. “Jack? Is that you?” I recognise that voice. Even though I haven’t seen him in months, I can never forget the voice of my best friend. “Ben?” I ask so I can find him. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m over here.” He sounds like as if he’s hurt. I follow his voice and crawl towards him and bump into him. When I do, he gasps in pain. “Sorry. What happened? I only woke up about 15-20 minutes ago,” I ask. “Well then, you must be some heavy sleeper. As you can see, our town’s been attacked by some in black. They shot all our parents dead, set some of our houses on fire and threw kids of all ages into these animal control vehicles. That’s what’s happened,” says a boy older than me. “Oh my. Ben, what happened to you?” I ask. “Well, they shot me in the leg when I tried to resist them when being put in here,” he says. “My God, Ben\. Why try resisting them when they have guns? Do you have anything covering the wound to stop the bleeding?” “No,” he replies weakly. “Does anyone have a light?” “I have a flashlight in my pocket,” someone says. “Can I borrow it a minute?” The person comes over to us and turns the flashlight on. I cover my eyes from the brightness. When my eyes adjust, I look back at Ben. His wound is right on his calf. I look around the vehicle and see a girl about 16 or 17 wearing a scarf. Who wears a scarf in June? Oh well. it doesn’t matter. I need it. “Hey, can I use that scarf to tie it around his wound?” I ask. “Well, he needs it, so yes,” she says as she takes it off and hands it to me. “Thanks.” I start to tie it around Ben’s leg. “Don’t worry, Ben, you’ll feel better in a minute,” I whisper to him. As soon as I finish, he gives a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Jack.” “Hey, that’s what best friends are for,” I say with a small smile. Just then, the door starts to open. Luckily, the person with the flashlight turned the light off. When the door is open all the way, two of the men toss two small children in here. “Is that all of them?” one of two men ask. “Yes. We’ve checked all the houses,” replies the other. “Good. Now”-he turns to us-”time for a long ride to Salt Lake City, and don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re all fed. We won’t stop to eat for another”-he checks his watch-”4 hours. Have fun.” He laughs as he closes the door and locks it, leaving us in here. Trapped. Category:Blog posts